the ministers of spiritual torment. Hester, I
am most miserable!"

"The people reverence thee," said Hester. "And surely thou workest
good among them! Doth this bring thee no comfort?"

"More misery, Hester!--only the more misery!" answered the clergyman,
with a bitter smile. "As concerns the good which I may appear to do, I
have no faith in it. It must needs be a delusion. What can a ruined
soul, like mine, effect towards the redemption of other souls?--or a
polluted soul towards their purification? And as for the people's
reverence, would that it were turned to scorn and hatred! Canst thou
deem it, Hester, a consolation, that I must stand up in my pulpit, and
meet so many eyes turned upward to my face, as if the light of heaven
were beaming from it!--must see my flock hungry for the truth, and
listening to my words as if a tongue of Pentecost were speaking!--and
then look inward, and discern the black reality of what they idolize?
I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast
between what I seem and what I am! And Satan laughs at it!"

"You wrong yourself in this," said Hester, gently. "You have deeply
and sorely repented. Your sin is left behind you, in the days long
past. Your present life is not less holy, in very truth, than it seems
in people's eyes. Is there no reality in the penitence thus sealed and
witnessed by good works? And wherefore should it not bring you peace?"

"No, Hester, no!" replied the clergyman. "There is no substance in it!
It is cold and dead, and can do nothing for me! Of penance, I have had
enough! Of penitence, there has been none! Else, I should long ago
have thrown off these garments of mock holiness, and have shown myself
to mankind as they will see me at the judgment-seat. Happy are you,
Hester, that wear the scarlet letter openly upon your bosom! Mine
burns in secret! Thou little knowest what a relief it is, after the
torment of a seven years' cheat, to look into an eye that recognizes
me for what I am! Had I one friend,--or were it my worst enemy!--to
whom, when sickened with the praises of all other men, I could daily
betake myself, and be known as the vilest of all sinners, methinks my
soul might keep itself alive thereby. Even thus much of truth would
save me! But, now, it is all falsehood!--all emptiness!--all death!"

Hester Prynne looked into his face, but hesitated to speak. Yet,
uttering his long-restrained emotions so vehemently as he did, his
words